Four Horses For Tishtry (7 page)

“I will do what Atadillius requires of me, I suppose,” Macon said, frowning. “He has already given his word that I may continue to make tack of all kinds, and that work and money will be mine, of course, but there are responsibilities to being a wife and he has good reason to expect me to ... to honor them and him.” She looked down at her hands. “He is not a bad man, and I like him. When he tells me stories, I laugh at them because they please me, not because I want to please him.”

Tishtry shrugged. “Well, if that is what you want, then you are fortunate to have it. I would rather keep as I am than be
paired with a man. Maybe when I am older, I’ll change my mind as you have.” She rubbed her hands together. “I ought to be grateful, Macon. Atadillius has spared me the task of buying your freedom. But I was looking forward to doing it. If I earn enough to free the rest of our family, I will not be able to see
it, but with you here with me, I thought that there would be one time that I could see it, could share in the celebration. And now, that’s not possible.”

“Tishtry!” Macon said, not quite able to keep the rebuke out of her voice. “How can you begrudge me this?”

“Oh, I don’t,” Tishtry responded quickly. “I didn’t mean it that way. But I wanted to have the opportunity ...” She faltered, then went on, “I know it’s foolish, but I always thought it would be my right to be the one to free you. That is what our father taught me from the first. Don’t you understand? I’m glad you are free and that you will have a husband and have children that are freemen and never wear a collar. You will not be paired off with another slave at the master’s orders, and need never fear
again that it might happen. You’re
the first of us to be free, Macon. It was something I wanted to give you, for all of us.”

Macon sighed and reached out to put her hand on Tishtry’s shoulder. “Little sister, you are
shaming me.”

“No, no,” Tishtry protested. “I don’t want you to feel shame. I just wanted you to know why ...”

The sisters looked at each other in silence. Then Macon gave her attention to the stove. “You have enough to contend with, Tishtry. I’ve thought for some time that it was not proper for our father to expect so much of you.”

“I
don’t mind,” Tishtry said with a touch of pride.

“Not now. But in a year, you may. Barantosz has only given you a year, and that is not very long. You have too much of a burden now. At least you need not carry me along with the rest.” She finished adding wood, then slid the grate back into place.

“But I don’t
mind
!”
Tishtry insisted. “And if that is why you are going to be Atadillius’ wife—”

“No,” Macon said. “No. I will be his wife because it is what I want to be. If he had not freed me, but only bought me, he still might have taken me with my goodwill. There are few men
I would rather be paired with.” Color rose in her face again. “That’s the true reason, Tishtry.”

“Ah.” Tishtry said, trying to sound as if she understood, no matter how baffled she was.

FROM
APOLLONIA
, Tishtry
, Macon, and Atadillius took a ship onto the Pontus Euxinus, south and east to Byzantium, then westward through the Propontis, with Thracia on the north of them and Asia and Bithynia on the south. They arrived in Troas four days later, bored and restless from the confinement of the ship, and with the
horses suffering from frets and fidgets that made them hard to handle.

At the amphitheater, they were met by the Master of the Bestiarii, a grizzled old Greek with a much-broken nose and an enormous paunch that overhung his belt. He sniffed once at Tishtry’s mismatched team and stared hard at Atadillius. “You’re the one that fellow Barantosz sent?”

“Yes,” Atadillius answered. “I’m Master of the Bestiarii in Apollonia in Thracia.” He tried to make it sound important, but in this larger amphitheater, he felt intimidated.

“Huh!” the Greek scoffed, then looked once more at Tishtry. “You’re the Armenian, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Tishtry answered, aware for the first time that her speech marked her as a complete provincial.

“I’ve heard about you. Tomorrow I want to see if what they say is true.” He braced his hands on his hips and planted his feet apart, as if he expected a struggle.

“The day after would be better. My team has been on a ship for four days and they will need to be worked on the lunge before I yoke them up again.” She was pleased to see
that this protest had gained her a small measure of respect.

“Day after tomorrow, then,” he agreed, and started to walk away.

“Where are we to stay?” Atadillius called after him.

“How should I know? That is Barantosz’s concern, not mine. You’ll find taverns all around the amphitheater. They’ll have room. There are
stalls at the end of the stable yard that you can use until we move you to permanent quarters.” He waved his hand once, and then was gone.

Macon looked astonished and turned to Atadillius. “What behavior!”

“They’re always like this in the big cities,” Atadillius lamented, and gave a philosophical hitch to his shoulders. He did not want to admit how little confidence he felt now that he was out of his own amphitheater.

“We’d better get the horses stabled and then find a place to sleep for the night,” Tishtry said, paying little attention to either Atadillius or Macon. “I want to see that they get raisins with their grain tonight. It will help them tomorrow.” She signaled one of the grooms to assist her, and led her horses toward the far end of the stable yard, as the Greek had told her to do.

“Say there, youngster!” a tall charioteer called as Tishtry made her way toward the
stalls. “What’s a kitten like you doing with a quadriga?”

She paused, searching for the taunting man. “Driving it in the arena,” she answered firmly. “Just like you.”

“You race?” The man laughed.

“No, I do other things,”
she
replied, and regretted it as soon as she had said it. There was bawdy laughter from some of the men in the courtyard that angered her.

“What other things, kitten?”

Tishtry turned to him and stared hard at him. “I do tricks. The day after tomorrow, you may judge for yourself what they are worth.” With that, she continued toward the stalls, paying no more attention to the comments that followed her.

She stayed on at the stables while her horses were fed and watered, then she made certain that there was a salt lick for each of them, that their coats were brushed and their manes and tails combed free of tangles, before she left the amphitheater and started in the direction of the street of the taverns, where Atadillius and Macon had found lodging. As she walked, she stared about her in wonder, amazed at how crowded, huge, and busy the place was. Everyone seemed to have something to do and was in a hurry to do it. People bustled through the streets, unmindful of those around them, their manners brusque and abrupt.

“They’re going to be curious about you,” Atadillius promised Tishtry when she reached the tavern. “I heard some of the aurigatores
talking about you, saying that they had heard you were skilled. Most of them expected one of those strapping great women, like the Cimri have, not a compact thing like you.” He held out a plate of fish chunks cooked with grapes. “Better have some.”

Tishtry helped herself, looking at her sister. “I want to go over the tack tonight, just in case we need to make
any repairs.”

Macon looked down at her fingers. “If you think it’s best.”

“Of course it’s best. No one performs when there’s something wrong with her equipment.” She ate some more, thinking that she had become hungry during her walk. “Do they have any nuts? I’m famished for nuts.”

“Probably they
have almonds in the kitchen. They have sausages, too. Do you want them?” Atadillius was being kinder than usual, but Tishtry did not question his reasons.

“Fine. If I’m going to do a demonstration ride, I might as well have as much energy as I can get.” She
leaned back on her stool, bracing precariously on one leg. “Who knows, someday we
may eat lying down like all the high-ranking Romans do. Wouldn’t that be a treat.”

“Tishtry!” Macon chided her. “Remember where we are and that we are guests in this city.”

Tishtry shrugged. “I’ll be respectful, if that’s what’s needed. But I won’t take time to cater to those charioteers at the arena—they all think that I’m incapable of riding decently because I’m young and I’m short.”

“You’ll have to show them otherwise, won’t you?” Atadillius said, winking at Macon. “They’ll find out.”

“They will,” Tishtry promised.

* * *

“I’d do better if I had another horse,” Tishtry complained to Atadillius two days later. “They want me to ride again, and with Shirdas favoring his off rear hoof, I can’t do it. If I had another horse, to take over when one of mine is not well, then I would be able to do far more than I’m doing now.”

“Ask Barantosz.” Atadillius suggested. They were at the practice ring near the arena and Tishtry was taking a break from her morning exercise with her team.

“He’ll say no. He’s already irritated at how much all this is costing, and how little he has had to show for it so far.” She folded her arms and looked across the ring to where an African bestiarii was working with a horse and a lion, teaching the half-grown cat to ride on the horse’s back. “I wish I could do something like that. Look at him; those animals are marvelous, and everyone will remember him forever because of how well he does this.”

“They’ll remember you, too, Tishtry.” Atadillius assured her, smiling at her with more friendship than he
usually showed her.

“Possibly,” she said without a trace of vanity. “And possibly not. If I could do something truly spectacular—”

“You already do spectacular things,” Atadillius reminded her.

“Not
truly
spectacular. I wish I had something more to my performance, a trick or series of tricks that no one would be able to duplicate in a hundred years.” She
reached out and patted Shirdas’ neck. “He’ll
be better in a day or two and then he’ll have a chance to show them all what he can do. That will still those ugly whispers.”

“What whispers?” Atadillius wanted to know.

“They’re saying that most of what I do is sham and that my master is trying to hoax everyone, creating interest in a charioteer as a novelty and then delivering nothing.” She turned to glare at Atadillius. “I’m not going to let them say that. I won’t have it.”

Atadillius decided that he should not encourage her in her attitude, for it might lead to more difficulties than she was already having. “You will show them to everyone’s satisfaction. There is no use in telling them, for they are used to hearing idle boasts. Be patient, girl, and you will have your chance. After that, they may say what they will, you will have no cause to concern yourself with them.”

“Perhaps,” she allowed, her expression set in stubborn lines. “But it is maddening to know that they doubt my abilities.”

“They will not in a day or so,” he
soothed.

Tishtry patted her horses once more. “I’ve been working on another running mount. I think I’ll try it out when I have my first demonstration. It looks far more dangerous than it is, but I don’t mind that.”

“How do you mean?” Atadillius asked, trying to hide his worry, for he knew that Macon relied on him to keep Tishtry from attempting anything reckless.

“Well, I worked it out yesterday, and I tried it out with Immit. I’d show you now, but with that lion in the ring, I don’t think Immit would manage well. What I do is start the team going, then jump out of the quadriga. I let the team go on, run across the arena so that I meet them as they come out of the turn, I spring back into the quadriga, then up, onto Immit. It’s really quite easy, if they keep to a steady pace.”

Atadillius gulped. “You might be trampled if you mistimed your ... spring.”

“Oh, I’m not afraid of that,” she said blithely, unaware of the distress she was causing Atadillius. “The team is used to me and they’ll stop quickly if I falter.”

“You could still be dragged for quite a distance,” he pointed out.

“It’s unlikely. I’d be more apt to roll free, the way I was taught to do. My father taught me about rolling away before he ever put me on a horse.” She reached up for the reins. “I’d better get back to work. This is no time to be
lazy.”

“Is the fifth horse so important,” Atadillius asked, anticipating her answer.

“I wouldn’t have said it if it wasn’t so,” she answered as she led her horses back into the ring for more work.

* * *

Her stage fright had returned, but she was used to it, and it did not upset her as it had the first time. She took a few long, deep breaths, then nodded to the aurigatore, bringing her head up and smiling widely. The glare from the sun and the sand hurt her eyes, but she kept the smile as she blinked.

There was the roar she had come to expect, but this one was louder and it echoed in a way she had never heard before. She was glad that the brass studs on her tunica and breeches had been polished, because, in so large an arena, she was worried she would not easily be
seen. Tishtry swung by the editor’s box and gave the customary bow before vaulting into the air, turning a somersault, and landing on Amath’s back. She could tell from the sound that this had been a success. She let her horses make a circuit of the arena while she simply stood on Amath’s back.

On the second turn, she started her tricks, and had the satisfaction of hearing gasps and hoots from the crowd as she rose on one leg on Immit’s back. She flashed her grin at the editor’s box again and continued around the arena. She liked the larger amphitheater now that she was used to it, for it gave her more room to show off. She turned a somersault between horses and came up on Dozei, letting the sorrel’s mane blow in her face before she got to her feet. Next she steadied herself, then tried the most difficult of her tricks: standing on her hands on Shirdas’ back. She was only able to hold herself erect for a little distance, but she
could tell she had her triumph in that trick by the enthusiasm of the audience. She ran through the rest of her stunts quickly, then exited through the Gates of Life at the far end of the arena, beaming to herself.

“That was some display,” one of the Greek charioteers said as he came up to her. “You’re better than I thought you’d be.”

“My master expects it of me,” she answered, determined not to be falsely modest, but not to puff herself up, either. “He’s
sent me here because he thinks I’ll do well for him.”

“If that performance was any indication of your skill, I’d say he has every reason to be confident of you.” It was a gallant compliment, but said with a trace of mockery that infuriated Tishtry.

“How kind you are,” she said through her teeth, then turned to accept the praise of several other arena performers, trying not to let the Greek’s snide attitude spoil her sense of accomplishment.

“Your horses are quite surprising,” one of the bestiarii told her as she walked her team to cool them. “To look at them, you’d think they’d never pull as one, but when they’re in the arena, they’re better than most of the racing teams.”

“I chose them for that,” Tishtry said with excusable pride. “They have the same length of stride and Shirdas here is strong enough to hold the others in the turns.” She looked toward the Gates of Life. “I heard there was to be a venation. What are they hunting?”

“There are eight dwarfs hunting wild pigs. I’ve seen better contests, but not in as backward a place as this. Troas is a disappointing place.” He gestured philosophically. “Well, when you reach my age, what can you expect? I’m too old for working in the important amphitheaters.”

Tishtry was amazed to hear him speak so, for she still thought of this amphitheater as the most impressive she
had ever seen. “If this is poor, what are the great ones like?”

The
old bestiarii laughed. “Why, child, they are gigantic, with ten times the
number of seats you have here, and the Games last for two and three days, with hundreds of animals, some of them brought from the
farthest ends of the Empire. There
are four and five chariot races, and the performers have skills that you cannot imagine. In Roma once, I saw a team of Dacian boys trained to swim as a team, and they pulled a barge through the flooded arena performing great and beautiful movements as fine as any dance. They then fought a mock battle with a miniature bireme manned by monkeys. After that, three of the boys performed with dolphins. Then they had a true battle with sharks. A number of them were killed, but not as many as you might expect. They are very expert, those Daci. The crowd loved them.”